


just slow down if you want me

by hrolds



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, and they call each other pretty at least once, but it's super fluffy, but then they get better, i'll add parts as i write them, it's kinda brief, there's some crying, they start off pretty sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5560729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrolds/pseuds/hrolds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The sounds of distant chatter and cars honking and store bells ringing were constant enough for him to get lost in it, but not loud enough for himself to miss the beautiful tragedy across the street."</p>
<p>or the au where everyone's sad</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. if the conversation's good

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic and i might add parts to this, probably will if i find some form of confidence because i wrote this at 4am and i was kind-of sad and kind-of full of ideas and kind-of hating myself
> 
> feedback is great, correct my grammar, tell me what was good and what didn't make sense and what doesn't fit, leave kudos, leave comments i love comments or don't do anything if you're tired
> 
> and my tumblr is ftcurls.tumblr.com and narrysmut.tumblr.com so message me on either or both and my instagram is hialler so catch me on there too if you'd like
> 
> and finally i don't own harry or niall but i like to indulge in the idea of them so please don't hate me for that

Harry didn’t want to stay in that day because sitting in his room for the eleventh day that month and thinking about the boy that fucked his brains out and stole his credit card made him hate the feeling of his skin. And sitting in his room and thinking about the boy that left him for his best friend two days prior to that made him hate the beating of his heart. The autumn breeze did nothing for him; he knew he looked awful enough for people to stare. The bags under his eyes felt so damn heavy and his nose was red and stuffy and there was a spot near his left collarbone that was itchy and sore and it kept nagging the back of his mind. He could only hope that the scarf around his neck hid enough of him.

He liked to kid himself, say that he was getting better, moving on. And, yeah, he liked to think so. Who was to say he was wrong? But who was to say he was right, he thinks, because he was stupid enough to let those pretty boys into his heart in the first place.

Walking around the streets wasn’t so bad, he thought, because at least out here Harry could breathe. He wasn’t conscious of where he was going or what he was looking at, but it was nice. Keep your eyes on the floor and breathe, and that’s what he did. The sounds of distant chatter and cars honking and store bells ringing were constant enough for him to get lost in it, but not loud enough for himself to miss the beautiful tragedy across the street.

Everything happened at once - a boy tumbled, his coffee splashed, his book bag spilled, and the few that passed by walked a circle around it all. “Someone help him,” Harry whispered, and saying it out loud made everything real. Harry stepped into the moving traffic and he could see in his peripherals cars speeding to a stop before they destroyed his entire being and there was this faint ringing in his ears. At this point, he could care less about what happened to him. He thought, if he got hit now, at least one of the two of boys would be out of their misery. And if he somehow made it through, made he could help the other out of his. With each step, he saw clearer that the boy was on the verge of crying and, of course, he was. Then he was five feet away and he could see red tear streaks on the top of his cheeks, then two feet when he realized the boy was sadder than he initially thought.

The boy had already started slowly picking up his things and stuffing them messily back into his shoulder bag, one that was worn and almost as sad looking as its owner. So Harry bent down and joined and as he stood back up after gathering the last of the things, his chest was centimeters away from another’s.

“Here,” he said as he took a step back and handed the things over because he needed to say something. He acted impulsively, yes, but in the state he’s been in no one would’ve guessed for him to be doing this. The blonde boy slowly reached up but Harry could see his hands trembling and he wanted to fall apart because he thought _he_ was _sad_.

“Thanks, uh,”

“Harry.”

“Harry,” the boy repeated almost immediately.

“And you?” The boy looked into his eyes suddenly and searched for something, like the amount of regret he might feel if he told Harry his name. Harry tried to show him none.

“It’s Niall,” he mumbled, but never looked away - still searching maybe.

“Niall,” _Niall Niall Niall_. “Are you okay?” It was a stupid question and he hated himself for asking because he knows the answer, but what he got was a little different.

“Sometimes,” Niall answered. And that’s when Harry tried to imagine Niall’s face with a smile and his lips not so chapped and his eyes a little brighter if that was any more possible, and maybe that image of a happier Niall made him want to stay for those sometimes. He’d never tell.

“You’ve got coffee all over your shirt, and no jacket on.” Niall opened his mouth to say something along the line of _it doesn’t really bother me_ , but Harry was already taking off his second outer coat and pushing it straight into Niall’s chest. He didn’t shove it hard, but Niall still lost all his breathe. “Here,” Harry insisted again, and what was the other boy to do but grab it and drop his shoulder bag with a thud so he could put it on because he was freezing and a pretty boy didn’t want that.

They exchanged numbers that day, so that Niall could return the coat and Harry could see him again. Harry had a history of pretty boys that let him down and crushed his heart, but to see Niall smash his heart to smithereens was something he couldn’t say no to. And if you asked either boys if this beautiful tragedy was anything as beautiful as Romeo & Juliet, Harry would’ve said it’s even prettier and Niall would’ve said he was no beautiful Juliet.

-

The first time Harry’s invited to Niall’s apartment it’s a few weeks after the incident, they’ve met up a couple times, he’d gotten his coat back, and it goes a little like this.

“You’re apartment smells like you,” is the first thing that slips through his mouth. He didn’t mean for that to happen and he prays to any god that’s listening that Niall doesn’t question how Harry knows what he smells like.

“And what’s that like?”

“You tell me.” They’ve gotten to a more comfortable phase with each other. Teasing and silly banter coming more from Harry’s side, but Niall hasn’t rejected him just yet so Harry takes that as a win. And sometimes Harry catches these little, secret smiles Niall has when they’re both being clever with each other, and that’s the biggest win he could’ve asked for because those sometimes he promised he’d stay for are on their way.

“Vanilla Lavender, it’s the candles in my room,” and that’s the end of that. But not really because Harry goes home that night and orders three Vanilla Lavender candles from the candle shop in town because the Cedar Wood Cinnamon he’s been burning through wasn’t doing it for him anymore.

-

The seventeenth time Harry’s invited to Niall’s apartment they’ve already confessed they’re liking towards each other during the ninth visit, they’ve decided to take things slow on the tenth, they have sex on the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth, and they just had sex again for the umpteenth time, and it goes like this.

“You’re good,” Harry mumbled. 

“What was that?”

“You’re so good to me.” Niall had his head tucked into Harry’s neck and his arm curled over Harry’s chest, hand fisted over Harry’s fast-beating heart, and Harry could smell Niall’s breathe, and it kind-of smelled like Harry’s toothpaste and the chocolate croissant he devoured on their little cafe date and that was just lovely. Harry could smell Niall’s shampoo, and that was just as lovely. And Harry could smell the sweat, the musk, and the _boy_ from what they just did, and that was the loveliest.

From what they’ve been doing for the past forever - he doesn’t even know, hasn’t kept track because he got so lost in it along the way - and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Niall was so fucking good to him, and he knew he was so fucking good for Niall too. He just knew it, or no he didn’t. He really didn’t. He knew that Niall was made so perfectly for him, and Harry could only hope he was made perfectly for Niall.

“What’re you goin’ on about, Harry?” His voice was so scratchy and soft and everything Harry wanted to hear. Gradually had Niall’s voice grown and adapted Harry’s similar teasing lilt, and the first time Harry heard his bright, bright laugh, Niall had blushed so fucking pretty and Harry had almost cried. But heaven knows if Harry could answer Niall’s question without scaring him away. _You’re perfect, and you’re not as sad anymore and I’m not as sad either and I like to think that’s because I came into your life and you tumbled into mine and I know I love you and I think you love me back and we haven’t said it out loud yet but you’re mine and i’m utterly and completely all yours so take me, have me, keep me, p l e a s e_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he pinched the skin near his rib and swallowed the words as if they tasted like Niall.

“Nothing, nothing, let’s hit the shower, yeah? You stink of my cum.” Niall fucking giggled, and there was no way for Harry to describe the way Niall looked now. What a wonderful sometimes.

“As if that’s ever bothered you.” Then Harry did too.


	2. maybe then you'll score

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Harry was so, so, so good to him."
> 
> or niall's pov for their seventeenth time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i already said i'd be posting this in parts and i haven't written anything further so comment ideas if you have any or message me on any of my social media
> 
> feedback is great, correct my grammar, tell me what was good and what didn't make sense and what doesn't fit, leave kudos, leave comments i love comments or don't do anything if you're tired
> 
> and my tumblr is ftcurls.tumblr.com and narrysmut.tumblr.com so message me on either or both and my instagram is hialler so catch me on there too if you'd like
> 
> and finally i don't own harry or niall but i like to indulge in the idea of them so please don't hate me for that

“You’re good.” Harry had whispered so softly that Niall would’ve missed it if it was anyone else saying it. He didn’t miss a thing when it came to him.

“What was that?” Niall heard him fine, had no idea what Harry meant, but his voice floated so nicely in the prettiest of sounds that he put Beethoven and Mozart and all the classics to shame. It was probably too late into the night or maybe it was too early into the morning for them to have any sort-of conversation right now, and they were both a little too out of breathe and sticky and sweaty and dirty. But if Harry talked nonstop for however long he’d have him, he’d be ok.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbled deeply. 

“What’re you goin’ on about, Harry?”

“Nothing, nothing, let’s hit the shower, yeah? You stink of my cum.” Niall remembers squeezing closer to Harry’s skin when he said that and giggling into his neck, then he remember fearing that he was being too clingy and backing up a little because he didn’t want Harry to find out he needed him so much. The thing is, Niall hated himself for wanting to push Harry into talking, and he hated himself for being so curious, but now he hates himself for not pushing Harry because maybe his answer would’ve moved their love a little faster. Or maybe he hates himself for not saying it back immediately because Harry is so good to him too and maybe he could’ve moved their love a little further. Harry was so, so, so good to him. God, he didn’t even know.

“As if that’s ever bothered you.” He thought the burning blush on his face had finally subsided from the post-orgasmic state Harry left him in, but the giggles Harry pressed into the back of Niall’s neck brought it right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, again leave comments and kudos as you feel

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, again leave comments and kudos as you feel


End file.
